CSi: But Not Forgotten
by A Rhea King
Summary: In Nevada, the CSi investigate a hearse and coffin found at the bottom of a canyon. In Miami, the CSi have been investigating the kidnapping of one of their own. Both cases lead to Ryan Wolfe.
1. Chapter 1

**But Not Forgotten  
**By  
A. Rhea King

**MOUNT CHARLESTON, NEVADA : PRESENT**

A downpour had deluged the area for several hours and drenched Greg, Grissom, and Nick as they had loaded the SUV with rappelling gear. They headed north towards Mount Charleston and by the time they met with the search and rescue team, the rain had let up to a light drizzle.

Grissom watched Nick, Greg, and the SAR teams disappear over the edge of the cliff as he walked toward it. Thirty feet below he could see the lights of the car, but the darkness of night concealed everything else.

This particular spot of Deer Creek Highway was a death trap for unsuspecting drivers. Grissom found himself out here at least once a week to investigate an accident scene were a driver that misjudged how sharp the corner was, or was too drunk to judge anything, or had a vehicle malfunction. All of which sent them careening through the guard rail, over the edge, and down into the steep sided canyon. The only way into the canyon was by the means of these unfortunate drivers, rappelling, or the canyon entrance one mile to the southwest. Grissom had serious doubts that they were going to be rescuing anything but a corpse.

"State patrol noticed the railing broke, again, and called it in," Brass said, joining Grissom.

Grissom's phone let out a shrill beep before Nick started talking, "Grissom, we've got a hearse down here with a coffin in it. No plates."

Grissom moved a little closer to the edge.

"A hearse is different," Brass commented.

He keyed the button on the side of his phone and asked, "Is there a body in the coffin?"

"We're still trying to figure out how to get to it. Hold on a minute."

It took twenty minutes for SAR to free the coffin from the mangled hearse.

Nick's voice came across Grissom's phone again, "The hearse caught fire at some point, but the rain must have put it out, because the coffin in the back is only charred. Greg and a couple guys here are getting it out, we'll know in a minute or two what's inside."

"Murder cover up?" Brass asked Grissom.

"Anything's possible."

"Grissom," Greg said over his phone. "I think someone was kept alive in here for a while. There are eye screws in the side with plastic ties attached to them. A couple of them have blood on them and they all look like they were cut with something blunt, maybe a rock. There's a torn sports jacket with blood on it. Geeze, Grissom, there is a lot of blood and brain matter at the foot of the coffin."

"Get everything covered before the rain can wash away any more evidence."

"Do you really think someone could have walked away from that?" Brass asked Grissom.

Grissom cocked his head a little, and then looked in the direction the canyon exited. "If someone did, there's only one way out of this canyon without climbing gear."

Brass looked in the same direction. "The desert. They went straight from the frying pan to fire."

Grissom frowned. If the person in the coffin was alive, Grissom was certain they were hurt, and the desert was a bad place for an injured person to be, night or day.


	2. Chapter 2

**LAS VEGAS : PRESENT**

Catherine and Warrick walked into the garage and stopped, staring at the crushed and charred hearse.

"We're assuming someone survived suicide corner and a car fire in a coffin?" Warrick asked.

"Until we find a body, yeah," Catherine answered.

"Las Vegas luck at its best."

She nodded, walking around the hearse. The coffin had been put back inside to transport it to the garage.

"Do you want the hearse, or the coffin?" she asked Warrick.

"Hearse."

"Help me get the coffin on the table before you start, will ya?"

They moved it over to a table and sat it down. Warrick pulled on gloves, grabbed his flashlight, and started going over the hearse.

Catherine picked up a flashlight and opened the coffin. She noticed eyelet screws about where the hands and ankles would have been. She turned and picked up a bag with the one of the torn plastic ties, holding it up. Catherine held it next to each of the screws until she found the wear pattern that would have matched.

"Whatcha got?" Warrick asked, looking up.

"There's wear on the plastic ties where they were tied down. They put up a fight at least."

"Hope search and rescue finds them, or they fought for nothing."

Catherine knew he was right, but she liked to believe there might be some hope. After all, this person may have survived a thirty foot plummet and kidnapping. She began to slowly examine the coffin, picking off evidence as she did.

* * *

"Mandy, I come bearing fingerprint gifts," Catherine said as she walked in. 

"Do ya now?" Mandy said with a smile.

"Yes." Catherine sat the dozen prints on the table before Mandy

"You're joking, right? A dozen of them?"

"And more to come. They are all over that hearse and coffin. I think maybe the hearse and coffin were stolen."

"Who would steal a hearse, or a coffin for that matter?"

Catherine walked back out. "Nothing is sacred these days."

Mandy laughed, getting started on the fingerprints.

* * *

Greg pulled the tape that had gagged their John or Jane Doe from a bag and carefully removed the bits of skin attached to it. He prepared the skin for DNA testing, started the test, and then began working on other evidence from the accident scene. He picked up the grains of sand that Catherine had found in the coffin and placed them on a slide and slid it under a microscope. Greg leaned over, focusing on the sand. The particles hinted that this was not sand from Nevada – it lacked the mineral composition of sand from the local area. But he had seen this sand in the Gulf Coast. 

Greg moved back and prepared the grains to go into a spectrometer. He looked over his shoulder when the DNA computer beeped, populating a CODIS hit on the screen. Greg turned, expecting to find some criminal with probably a good reason to be on the wrong end of a crime. Greg skimmed the page, right past the man's occupation. His eyes jumped back and he forgot to breath.

"Oh no…" he gasped.

Greg fell into a chair and started typing and clicking. Nick walked in, dropping his swabs off next to the others Greg was working on. Greg stopped typing, reading a file he pulled up.

"Have you had any hits from anything yet?" Nick asked, looking at Greg.

Greg didn't answer.

"Greg?"

Greg still didn't answer.

"Greg!"

"What?"

"Is something wrong?"

Greg suddenly jumped up and ran past Nick, searching for Grissom. Nick walked over to the computer, reading the APB. And instantly was outraged.

* * *

Grissom and Warrick stared at the interior of the coffin that luminol had lit up brightly. 

"And that's just with one _light_ coating," Catherine told them.

"That's can't all be blood," Warrick commented.

"GRISSOM!" Greg yelled as he ran into the garage.

The three turned. Greg grabbed the doorframe, panting.

"I gotta hit on the skin off one of the piece of tape."

"Do you have a name?"

Greg waved his hand at Grissom as he shook his head. "The name's not the important part. He's—"

"What is his name, Greg?"

"Ryan Wolfe, but Grissom, he's a CSI with the Miami Dade Police Department. He was kidnapped two weeks ago, and is still missing."

"That changes things," Warrick said.

"Yes. It means we have an injured officer wandering the Mojave Desert." He looked at the two. "This just became a round the clock case. I'm going to go ask for swing."

The two nodded, watching Grissom leave. Greg fell in behind him, starting to tell him what else the CODIS hit told him


	3. Chapter 3

**MOUNT CHARLESTON, NEVADA : PRESENT**

Ryan Wolfe tripped over a root that had arched out of the ground and fell, landing on cracked ribs. The pain took his breath away and he couldn't move for several minutes. Finally he was able to roll onto his back, staring up at the clear sky with an unmerciful sun. Ryan slowly picked himself up, whimpering with every effort move he made against his ribs and limped into the shade of the canyon wall. He slowly sat down on a sandy spot, laying his head back the canyon wall. Sleep that had been begging him to let it have its way, drug him under in seconds.

And then it played games with his mind.

**DUBUQUE, IOWA : TWO AND A HALF WEEKS AGO**

Gagged and bound to the sides of the coffin, Ryan was helpless. He heard voices: two females and at least four men. They were outside the hearse negotiating a drug sale.

"What's in the other coffin?" the second female asked.

"My pet," the first answered.

"Pet?"

One of the men laughed. "Chrissie decided to keep this cop she has a crazy obsession over."

"Don't call me crazy!" Chrissie snapped.

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Forgot what?" one of the men said.

"You have a cop in there?" another asked.

"He's not a cop anymore," Chrissie said and then laughed, adding, "He's my pet!"

"This I have to see!" the 'forgot what' voice cried.

Footsteps come near the hearse and then the lid was opened. Ryan blinked against the bright sunlight, trying to focus on the dark form at the end of the coffin. When he could finally see him, he didn't even bother trying to ask for help. The man's appearance was enough to tell him this guy was not a savior – his hair was long and stringy and his shirt looked like he'd been wearing it for a week.

"Oooo EEEE!" he laughed. "You really do gotta cop in here!"

The others gathered around. Chrissie smiled, reaching for Ryan's leg. He tried to pull away, forgetting is ankles were tied to the coffin. She rested her hand on his leg.

"My pet," she crooned.

The man started toward him. "I thought you were talking about a dog!"

What happened next was somewhere between a blessing and a curse. Ryan knew what the guy had in mind for him and all his struggling wasn't going to stop the guy. Suddenly Chrissie drew a gun and shoved it against the man's temple. He laughed, looking at her so it rested against his forehead.

"Come on. Isn't that why you kidnapped him? Use him to keep the cops away and get your jollies off?"

"My pet," Chrissie told him, her voice suddenly cold and sinister.

Ryan hadn't heard this tone before but instincts told him that some switch had been flipped and that this guy was perilously close to where her sanity met insanity.

"Oh just let him have him, Chrissie," her accomplice told her. "Maybe he'll stop fighting you if you break him a little."

The man turned, moving toward Ryan again. Chrissie cocked the gun and he froze again.

"My. Pet," she told him. And then pulled the trigger.

Ryan cringed when blood and brains splattered him. The man slumped over the end of the coffin, spilling blood into it.

"CHRISSIE!" her accomplice screamed.

She grabbed the corpse and pushed it out. She turned, aiming her gun at her accomplice.

"My pet," she repeated.

"Okay. Okay, Chrissie. He's yours. We won't touch him unless you say so. Just… Don't shoot anyone else, okay? We need buyers."

"Okay," she said, smiling happily. She turned, laying her free hand on the coffin lid. "Sorry about that, Ryan. It won't happen again." And then she closed the lid.

**MOUNT CHARLESTON, NEVADA : PRESENT**

Ryan's eyes snapped open. He was panting and sweating from the fear the memory had invoked again. He looked up, noticing that daylight was fading. Ryan struggled onto his feet and started walking again, putting distance between him and the hearse.


	4. Chapter 4

**MIAMI : PRESENT**

The CSI labs had been somber for two weeks. Every time Horatio's desk or cell phone rang, people would stop and watch him, hoping for word about Ryan Wolfe, but so far there had been no news. As the hours and days ticked by, Horatio's hope was fading that they'd ever see Ryan alive again. He let himself be distracted with work, and right now his work had him staring at a dead woman in a quiet suburban home. Alexx had arrived ahead of him and was examining the body.

"Alex, what do you have for me?"

"She was shot." Alexx turned to him as his phone rang.

Horatio answered it. "Horatio."

"Is this Lieutenant Horatio Cane?" a man asked.

"Yes it is. Who am I speaking to?"

"I'm Gil Grissom with Las Vegas CSI. Do you have a moment? I need to speak to you about a matter."

"I'm in the middle of a crime scene, Mister Grissom. Can I call you back?"

"You may, but I need information about a missing person, so don't wait too long."

That caught Horatio's attention. He looked down at the body. "Alexx, I need to step outside."

She nodded and Horatio took the call out to the driveway. Calleigh and Eric were walking up it and stopped next to him.

"What missing person?" Horatio asked.

"We found a hearse with a coffin in it last night. One of my CSI found skin on a piece of duct tape and CODIS flagged the person as—"

"Ryan Wolfe," Horatio finished.

His CSI stared at him.

"Yes."

"And you haven't recovered a body?"

"There wasn't one at the accident scene."

"So this was part of an accident. Were there any suspects at the scene? Perhaps a woman in her mid-thirties with brown hair?"

"We found it at the bottom of a canyon and no, there was no one else at the scene."

"I get the impression you think he was able to leave the scene."

"There's a chance of that, but that's not necessarily a good thing. The only way out of the canyon opens onto the desert, heading southwest, and away from Las Vegas. There are few residences in that area, and I'm afraid your CSI has the odds stacked against him unless we can find him in time."

Horatio watched Alexx come out of the house. She didn't speak when she stopped next to him.

"We'd like to come out to Nevada and help with the search."

"I'd expected nothing less. Can we have copies of this case? It might help us locate the kidnapper."

"We'll bring everything we have with us." Horatio hung up.

"Where's Ryan?" Eric demanded.

"Nothing concrete, but possibly southern Nevada. I am going to head back to the lab and make arrangements so we can leave. Until I can get two swing CSI to cover for you, I need you two to start processing this scene.""

"How did he get to Nevada?" Alexx asked.

"That's where Chrissie's delusions met reality." Horatio put his sunglasses on and headed to his Hummer. Horatio drove away, thankful for the moment he could be alone. He had been berating himself since Ryan's disappearance – because if Ryan had known what was happening earlier, maybe he wouldn't never have gone on his date, and maybe he would have accepted police protection, and just possibly. Quite possibly he'd be safe in Miami where the biggest concern Horatio would have for him is if he was being to compulsive about some evidence.


	5. Chapter 5

**MIAMI : FOUR MONTHS AGO**

Calleigh looked up and smiled when Ryan came into the room.

"Welcome back, Ryan."

"Thanks. Anything interesting to start on?"

"Sure!" She turned and picked up a twelve inch by twelve inch box and sat it on the edge of the table. Whatever was inside rattled like cornflakes.

"What's this?"

"We had a multiple gang shooting. These are all the spent rounds mixed with some bullets. You can run all of them through IBIS for me."

Ryan looked up at her. "How many are there?"

"I stopped counting at three hundred. Have fun."

Ryan sighed, looking at the box.

"Ryan," the receptionist said as she walked in. He turned, looking at the long envelope she held out to him. "This came for you this morning."

"Thank you." He took it and she left. Ryan tore it open, pulling the card inside out.

"What is it?"

"Congratulations on your employment." Ryan opened the card and two tickets fell out. He picked them up, looking at them. "I think this is for someone else."

"What is it?" Calleigh joined him, reading the tickets over his shoulder. "Lower prime tickets to the Miami Dolphins. Those things cost a fortune!" Ryan opened the card, letting her read it. "Welcome back, Ryan. I look forward to seeing you in the field. Me. Who is Me?"

Ryan shook his head. "I have no idea."

Calleigh looked at the tickets. "You know… After everything that's happened, maybe you should take this Horatio."

Ryan didn't answer. She frowned at him.

"You haven't even said 'hi' this morning, have you?"

"Not really sure how."

"You walk up to him and say 'hi.'"

Ryan frowned at her.

She smiled, patting his shoulder. "Okay. How about, instead, you take this to him so this doesn't come back to haunt you, and see how the conversation plays out. The bullets can wait."

Ryan slipped the tickets and card back in the envelope. "I'll be back for them."

Ryan left the lab, seeing Natalia down the hall. The two slowed to a stop.

"Good to see you back," she told him.

"Thanks. How's the practice coming?"

"Good. More target hits than misses these days."

He smiled. "Good thing. I'll catch you later."

She nodded and he continued on to Horatio's office, finding him reading a case file. Moving just his eyes, his boss looked up at Ryan as he entered.

"Mister Wolfe," Horatio said.

"Morning, H."

Horatio put the file aside and sat back in his chair.

"Ready for work?"

"Yeah. Calleigh already has something for me." Ryan held up the card. "This came for me." Ryan handed it over to Horatio. "I don't know who sent it."

Horatio opened the card and read it, then looked at the tickets. He sat them both down on his desk.

"Simply signed Me. Thank you for bringing this to me. I'll have Eric run them for prints and see if he can come up with anything."

"Thank you."

"Better get back to Calleigh."

"Yeah." Ryan walked to the door, and then stopped. "Hey, uhm, thanks for helping me get back on."

"You're welcome."

Ryan gave him a smile and left as Eric was coming in.

"Welcome back," Eric said in passing.

"Thanks."

Eric came into Horatio's office. "Finished with the B&E evidence. It was the husband staging it to look like a B&E, all for insurance."

"Good work Eric." Horatio motioned to the card, envelope and tickets. "Do you have gloves on you, Eric?"

He pulled a pair from his hip pocket and put them on.

"Another death threat?" Eric asked.

"On the contrary. This one is welcoming Ryan back to his job, with some very expensive Dolphin tickets."

"Are you going to tell him about the death threats?"

"They weren't aimed at him, Eric. They were aimed at us."

"Yeah, but the sender was threatening us if he didn't get his job back. Don't you think he should know?"

"We don't know for sure if it's directly linked to him."

"The writer said if we didn't get him back on the job we were going to die. I'd call that linked."

"The evidence hasn't proven one yet, has it?"

"No. Guess not."

"Alright. Then until there's a connection, Ryan doesn't need to know about the threats. See what you can find out."

Eric nodded. "I'll give you answers in a few hours." He left with the items

Horatio opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out an evidence box. He opened it, revealing dozens of letters addressed to the various CSI. Horatio took one off the top addressed to him and opened it, re-reading it:

_If you don't reinstate Ryan Wolfe by the end of the month, I will make sure your son dies._

Horatio was concerned by how personal the letters had gotten. This person knew every detail about their lives, and hadn't started attacking them until Horatio had suspended Ryan. He suspected this person was stalking Ryan, but without any conclusive evidence, he didn't want to say anything. Ryan had just come back and this was the last thing he needed to worry about.


	6. Chapter 6

**MIAMI : ONE MONTH EARLIER**

Horatio walked into his office finding Ryan sitting in a chair, staring at the stack of cash on his desk.

"Me has been persistent today," Horatio said as he walked up to the arrangement. "This is the sixth delivery isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's ten thousand dollars, H. And you should read the card."

Horatio pulled out the card and read it out loud, "Delko froze at the shooting. You should let your supervisor know. You deserve his position. Consider this a bonus for your last bust."

Horatio folded the card and looked out his office windows. Minutes passed in silence.

"Uhm…" someone said.

The two looked back. The receptionist was holding up a package.

"For Mister Wolfe?" Horatio asked her.

She nodded.

"Ryan, do you have gloves?"

Ryan got up and put on gloves. He took the package from her.

"Take this to Eric?" Ryan asked.

Horatio didn't answer until the receptionist left.

"I think we should talk about this stalker before you go."

"H., I know this is annoying, but I don't know—"

"Ryan, I know you're doing everything you can."

Ryan looked at the package in his hand. "Am I?"

"Yes. I have withheld information that might have helped you. I thought I was helping you, but now I think I was wrong."

Horatio waited for Ryan to look at him. "What information?"

"While you were suspended your stalker sent everyone in the department death threats. I didn't want to tell you until we had some evidence linking the threats with your stalker; which Eric found yesterday. Whoever licked one of the envelopes yesterday was the same female contributor that licked all of the death threat envelopes."

"Are the letters signed Me?"

"They are not."

"H… I'm getting a little scared."

"Perhaps we should consider having a uniform follow you."

Ryan grimaced. "Could we wait one more day on that? So far this person hasn't done anything and… Could we wait one more day?"

"Why is that?"

"It'll be really hard to explain to my date, on our first date, why I have a policeman following me."

Horatio smiled. "So, you finally took up the delivery girl's invitation?"

Ryan smiled, trying not to blush. "She's cute and she's been asking for four months. It's not her fault this psycho keeps sending packages through her company."

Horatio laughed a little. "No it's not. Enjoy your date, but don't let your guard down."

Ryan shook his head. "I won't. See you in the morning."

Horatio nodded his head once, watching him leave.

* * *

Ryan stopped in front of an apartment building and got out. He opened the passenger door for his date, Chrissie, and she climbed out.

"Do you want to come up?" she asked, motioning toward the apartment building.

Ryan hesitated. The evening had been pleasant, but there hadn't been a spark. Ryan sensed she was hiding something and he didn't want to know what since he wasn't actually attracted to her.

He glanced at the card pulling up in front of his. The trunk popped and the driver turned, doing something.

"I'd better just go home."

"Oh." She looked up at her building. "Well, would you mind at least walking me to my door?"

"That I can do."

The two headed to the front gate. She pushed it open and went up the stairs. Ryan followed behind her and she stopped at the first door. Chrissie fished for her keys in her purse.

"I should get a smaller purse," she joked.

Ryan looked back when he heard someone coming and watched a man come through the gate. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to light a cigarette. Ryan looked back when he heard Chrissie's keys drop onto the walkway. He reached down, picking them up for her. Ryan looked up into the barrel of a gun, and then into Chrissie's eyes. She smiled.

"I don't really live here," Chrissie said, "And don't say anything, okay? Cause, well, then I'd have to shoot the first person that tried to help you."

"Who are you?" Ryan demanded.

"Me, my pet."

Ryan started to say ask her name again, when he realized she just told him, and it made his stomach turn into a cold, tight knot. She was his stalker? She had been under his nose this whole time?

"What do you want?"

"You. Now let's go back downstairs quietly."

Ryan's hand moved toward the gun concealed under his sports jacket.

"You don't want to do that. Jerry has a short temper."

Cigarette smoke wafted over Ryan's shoulder and he realized the man that had come through the gate was standing behind him now. He slowly turned, facing Jerry. He moved back, making way for Ryan to go down the stairs, and then rested his hand on his own gun in a shoulder holster.

Ryan moved slowly down the stairs, keeping his eye on Chrissie. Jerry followed behind her, unconcerned. They reached the gate and he saw a car with a trunk open. He had to try to run now, or he may never get out of this alive.

In a burst, Ryan bolted. To his surprise, Jerry easily caught up with him. The man tackled Ryan in the middle of the street. Ryan turned, swinging a punch. Jerry dodged it, and then shoved a damp cloth over Ryan's nose and mouth. He caught Ryan's arm in a painful, pinching grip.

A sharp alcohol smell filled his nose that Ryan immediately recognized as ether. He tried to push Jerry's hand and the cloth off before the vapors knocked him unconscious. But it was a loosing fight that ended quickly. Jerry stood when Ryan laid motionless, flicking ashes off his cigarette. He tossed the cloth and then lifted Ryan over his shoulder. Jerry walked back to the car and dropped him in the trunk. He stopped when Chrissie leaned into the trunk to kiss Ryan's lips. She giggled, prancing back. Jerry smiled a little, getting in. She hopped into the car and slid up to him.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she said, kissing his cheek.

"Mm-hm. Let me go so I can drive, Chris."

She slid back to her side of the car, staring at the back where Ryan was now hidden.

* * *

Horatio was speaking to an officer when Calleigh came up. She smiled at the officer and waited until he left.

"Yes?" Horatio asked.

"Ryan's late, Horatio."

Horatio looked at his watch. "Have you called him?"

"I've tried his cell and his home phone. Natalia stopped at his apartment on her way a call and he didn't answer. His neighbor was Ryan was supposed to pick up his dog last night at eleven. He never showed."

"Was she able to get into his apartment?"

"Yes. He wasn't there."

"Okay. We need to find his car. He said last night he was going on a date with the On Time Delivery girl. We need to find her and see if she can tell us when she last saw him."

"There also hasn't been one delivery from his stalker this morning."

That lifted Horatio's eyebrow. "That is a bad sign."

"I'll let you know what I find out." Calleigh turned and hurried off.

Horatio pulled his cell phone off and dialed Eric.

"Delko," Eric answered.

"Eric, Ryan may be missing. I want you to go to On Time Delivery and see if you can speak to the delivery girl that bringing Ryan's packages."

"I'm on my way."

Horatio hung up, looking out a nearby window. His instincts told him they were about to have a nightmare of a case.

* * *

Eric walked into the office of On Time Delivery and the woman behind the counter smiled. Eric smiled as he showed her his badge.

"I need to speak to one of your delivery girls. I know her first name is Chrissie, she has long brown hair, and—"

"She was fired yesterday," the woman told him.

"Fired?"

"Yeah. She was billing client accounts for personal packages she was delivering to her boyfriend." She motioned at his badge. "Some guy that worked with you."

Eric's smile faded. "Did she ever mention his name?"

"Yeah. Ryan."

Eric was already starting to see all the clues they had overlooked coming together.

"Did she say how long they'd been together?"

"She said for at least two years. I guess they met when he pulled her over for speeding and hit it off. She was all ga-ga for him."

"Was she?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"I need her address."

The woman hesitated. "I don't know if I'm supposed to give that out."

"She kidnapped Ryan last night. So if you need to get your supervisor to release her address, go."

The girl hurried off to find her supervisor. Eric dialed Horatio.

"H., the delivery girl, Chrissie, she was telling people here they'd been dating and she was sending him the packages."

"Are you getting her address?"

"Yeah." Eric saw the girl coming back with her supervisor. "I'll call you when I have it." Eric hung up so he could talk to the supervisor.

* * *

The front door of the small apartment opened slowly. The apartment manager quickly got out of the way of the police and Calleigh. Natalia hung back, speaking to the small oriental man. The apartment was sparsely furnished and spotless. A policeman started down a hall and stopped at the first door. He pushed opened the door and she covered him. The bathroom was empty. There wasn't even a shower curtain hanging. They moved to the second door and opened it. The bed was stripped of bedding. The closet was empty. The officer and Calleigh moved to the last door and opened it. Calleigh slowly stepped into the room, staring at the shrine. It had every newspaper article and picture that had ever been printed. Mixed in with were internal crime scene photos that had Ryan in them.

Natalia came into the room. "Calleigh the manager said…" She trailed off, staring at the shrine. "This is…"

"Bad." Calleigh finished.

"It gets worse," Natalia added, remembering what she had come into tell Calleigh. "The landlord said she was placed here by The Village."

Calleigh sighed. "So Chrissie was either a serious drug addicted, mentally unstable, or both."

Natalia nodded, but she couldn't take her eyes off the disturbing shrine.

* * *

Eric typed in Chrissie's name and it populated on the screen before him, Natalia, Calleigh, and Horatio.

"There. He arrested her for speeding and possession when he was still on patrol," Eric said. "She had escaped The Village that morning and he noted in the report she appeared to be high on coke or heroin."

"So she just picked the first man that she saw and he happened to be it?" Natalia asked.

"No." Horatio's eyes narrowed. "Someone who is delusional needs something to set their fixation off on a person. My guess is something happened during the arrest. We're going to need a warrant to search her room and get her records from The Village. Get it, Eric."

Eric left to do as he was asked. "Ms. Boa Vista, pull up the report of his arrest. See if you can find anything that sounds unusual about it."

She left, leaving Calleigh and Horatio. Horatio touched the mouse and scrolled through a very long list of drug related charges and arrests.

"Chrissie Mandais… You are a very busy drug dealer…" Horatio told the screen.

"Maybe the kidnapping was really about drugs," Calleigh suggested.

"I don't believe so. Some of the gifts she sent were too personal for this to be about drugs. But it does explain the monetary gifts."

"We didn't get anything off them, Horatio. No drug trace and they weren't marked as stolen."

"Then they were well laundered. This woman must be well connected."

Calleigh turned to him. "So well connected that she could make Ryan disappear."

He looked up at her. "We won't believe that, will we? We will believe that we will find him. Somehow."

Calleigh looked back at Chrissie's rap sheet. Not even Horatio's words were consolation. This woman was mentally unstable and well connected – a deadly combination that could not possibly end well for Ryan.

* * *

Horatio and Eric waited at the receptionist desk. Horatio saw a doctor coming down the hall and turned to face him.

"I'm Doctor Milner," he said as he stopped in front of Horatio.

"Doctor Milner," Horatio presented him with a warrant. "This is for the patient records of a one Chrissie Mandais and to search the room she occupied when she was here."

He took the warrant and skimmed over it before responding. "Until I can have our lawyer look over this warrant, I'll only let you read the records in my office, Detective Cane."

"I would appreciate that. Meanwhile, I'd like my CSI to have access to her room."

"She left here six months ago."

"We'd still like to see it."

"Let me make the arrangements to have the current patient removed from the room."

Horatio watched him head back down the hall.

"H, if she left here six months ago, what am I looking for?" Eric quietly said.

"Calleigh said there was a shrine at Chrissie's apartment. An obsession like that doesn't happen overnight. Look for anything that would indicate her obsession that the staff may have covered up."

Eric nodded.

* * *

Doctor Milner glanced up, watching Horatio walk up to him. He looked back in the patient's room that Eric was searching.

"Our lawyer said the warrant is valid, so I'll have my nurse make copies of the records," Milner told him.

"I appreciate that. I have a question about the records."

"What's that?"

"I see that Chrissie had an obsession with someone. Do you recall who that was? Did she ever mention this person's name?"

"No. She only called him 'her pet,' and it didn't start until a year and a half ago."

"The day she escaped?"

"Yeah. She was high, stole a car and was caught speeding. The officer that pulled her over brought her back in the middle of the night."

"Did you look at any articles about the person she was obsessed with?"

"No."

Horatio cocked his head to the side, looking sidelong at Milner. The doctor was lying, he could hear it.

"Not a single article? No photos? She never mentioned the name Ryan Wolfe?"

Milner frowned. "She only cut out pictures of this person, and yes, she did mention the man's name a few times. She was convinced he was her boyfriend."

"So you knew this was a real person she was obsessed with?"

"Yes."

"And you never thought to contact the police about it?"

"Detective Cane, if I called the police with every patient that came here obsessed with someone who really existed, the jails would be full of my patients."

"The night she was returned, she was brought in by patrolman Ryan Wolfe. He happens to be my CSI now. And he is also the object of her obsession, Doctor Milner."

Milner looked at him. He was a bright man and he understood what implications were unspoken.

"Has she hurt him?"

"We believe she kidnapped him, we don't know if she's hurt him yet or not."

Milner covered his mouth for a second. "I thought we'd moved past it. I didn't think she was even interested in him anymore."

"Why is that?"

"I ordered her to take down all of her pictures. She'd completely covered this room with pictures of him. She had several fits before she finally did as I asked. I never saw another photo or heard his name or her reference 'her pet' again."

"Horatio!" Eric called.

"Perhaps next time a patient is obsessed with a policeman, you'll contact us."

Horatio walked into the room, seeing Eric standing with one foot on the toile back and the other in the sink. He'd pulled off the bathroom vent cover and had pulled out a dusty shoe box. He handed it down to Horatio and then climbed down.

Horatio opened it and hundreds of pictures of Ryan Wolfe stared back at him. Eric looked from the photos to Horatio.

"Are we going to find him, H?"

Horatio picked up one that had a heart draw around his face with smeared lipstick. Maybe it was pure hope that made him answer yes, while in the back of his mind he was telling himself no.

* * *

Ryan heard laughter coming toward the car. He had no idea how long he'd been in the trunk, but it was hot and stuffy. His clothes were wet with sweat. He moved around, getting ready to kick whoever opened the trunk.

The trunk clicked and lifted. He kicked both feet at the first person he saw. The man fell back. The four men that were with him drew guns, aiming them at Ryan. The man came up from the ground, reaching for Ryan.

"Mike, stop it!" Chrissie ordered as she came up behind them. "You startled him. He's like a little kitten right now. Don't hurt him."

"Chrissie, if that's a kitten I'm the president."

"Pleased to meet you Mister President."

That got a chuckle from the men, even Mike. Ryan didn't find any of this amusing. She looked down at him, reaching her hand out to touch his face. He jerked away, glaring at her.

"After three days I would have thought you'd have calmed down some," she told him.

"You kidnapped me and left me locked in this trunk for three days!"

"Maybe we should park the car outside and leave him in there for another three days," one of the other men said. "Cook the fight right out of him."

That made all of them laugh.

"We're leaving, Jerry."

"Chrissie, this is a bad idea. He's a cop, he's going to slow us down, and we have a time table that _you_ made. I really think—"

"Jerry," She turned to the speaker. "My connections, my plan, my expertise to forge papers and passports. I told your daddy that if he wanted all that, I wanted this." She motioned at Ryan. "Stop your complaining; he's going too."

"Going where?" Ryan asked.

She looked at him. "All in good time, my pet."

"I'm not your pet!"

"You will be when I'm done with you." She leaned in and he shied back, staring into her eyes. "We're about to hit the road, Ryan. And as you can see, I'm about the only one here that likes you even a little' something to do with you being a cop and all, even though I've tried to explain how CSI _aren't_ cops. So, Jerry here, he's going to take you to the restroom cause I have other things to do – otherwise I'd help you. It's going to be a long ride to the next one, for _you_, so you'd better take advantage of this while you can."

She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Ryan slowly sat up and for the most part, the men helped him out. Standing at the back of the car he found himself standing in a large warehouse. Lined up and waiting to leave were two dozen hearses. Men and women, dressed in surgical gowns, were pulling organs from cadavers, and then packing bags of drugs in the bodies. Ones that were already packed were being dressed and having make-up applied before being placed into a coffin. He didn't need anyone to explain what was happening – they were going to smuggle their drugs in cadavers using hearses. It was perfect, unfortunately. With a hearse and corpse, they could cross state lines and no one would ever suspect drug trafficking.

Ryan stumbled a few steps when Jerry pulled him in a walk. He looked back at Chrissie. She was talking to another man, hiding her insanity. Ryan looked away, his mind racing with any idea of how to get loose – and coming to dead ends with every thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**LAS VEGAS : PRESENT**

Grissom rounded the corner and saw he had three visitors waiting in his office. A woman with long blond hair sat in one chair with a leather case sitting on the floor next to her chair. A man with distinctive Puerto Rican features sat in the other, and a lean man holding a pair of sunglasses was staring at his shelf with shrunken heads. Grissom entered his office and they all looked up at him.

"Good morning," Grissom said, watching the man and woman stand. "May I help you?"

"Horatio Cane," the man said, extending his hand.

"Oh! Yes. I thought you'd be here at eleven."

"We were able to get seats on an earlier flight. These are my CSI Calleigh Duquesne and Eric Delko."

Grissom shook their hands. He grabbed a chair from the back and sat it next to the other two.

Grissom said as he sat down in his desk chair.

"I assume you haven't found Ryan yet?" Horatio asked as he sat in the chair.

"I'm sorry to say we haven't. We're still processing the coffin and hearse." Grissom leaned on his desk. "We did lift several prints from under the coffin lid, one of the prints belonging to a Chrissie Mandais."

"Just on the inside?" Calleigh asked.

"The hearse and coffin were burned so there were no recoverable prints anywhere else."

"And the coffin?" Horatio asked.

"Your CSI had a slight stroke of luck. It started raining that night and the fire only charred the outside."

"Do you think he's alive, Mister Grissom?" Horatio asked.

"Call me Gil. We don't know. The rain washed away any tracks but search and rescue began their search at daylight. Since there weren't any other bodies, we're assuming that Chrissie is alive. It might help us find her if you could fill me in on your investigation. Did you bring the case file?"

Calleigh pulled the case file from her bag and sat it in front of Grissom. He hid his surprise at seeing how thick it was.

"We started it when we began receiving death threats regarding Ryan," Calleigh told him.

"She was threatening to kill him?"

"No. Us."

"Mister Wolfe was suspended for a short time. The letters were threatening us if he wasn't reinstated," Horatio explained.

"Apparently you reinstated him."

"Yes. After that, her tactics turned to sending him expensive gifts, letters and cards, and large sums of money."

"The money… Did you run the serial numbers?"

"We did. None of it was stolen."

Grissom laid his hand on the file, holding Horatio's eyes, "I could read this, but it would move this case forward faster if you just told me what's in here."

Horatio began recounting what had happened prior to Ryan's kidnapping.

* * *

Catherine had removed all the obvious trace she could find in the coffin. She slid on a pair of wraparound fluorescence glasses and picked up a florescent flashlight. She turned to the coffin as she flicked it on, and the fabric inside lit up.

"Oh my…" Catherine said, staring at it.

"What is it?" Greg said, appearing at her side.

"This doesn't look good."

Greg grabbed a pair of glasses and put them on. His brow furrowed.

"It's covering the bottom."

"Yes." Catherine turned and picked up a pair of scissors. "Hold this for me so I can cut some of this out."

Greg took the light, aiming it at the bottom so she could cut around the illuminated area. She pulled out the fabric and slid it in a baggie.

"I can run that."

She handed it to him. "Okay. But brace yourself."

"For what?"

She took the light, looking up at him. "My hunch says you're going to find two known contributors and it's going to tell a very bad story."

Greg looked at the cloth, then her. "Such as?"

"Just run it first. Story later."

He handed her the flashlight back and headed back to the lab. He prepared the fabric to pull the DNA off and then ran the liquid. He turned to work on another case while he waited for the results. Greg looked back when the printer turned on and spit out two sheets. Greg picked up both and the story Catherine had warned him about suddenly came to light. Greg looked up for a minute, then headed to Grissom's office.

* * *

The Miami CSI and Grissom sat around Grissom's desk. Everyone glanced up at Greg when he walked in, but the conversation didn't stop.

Eric continued talking. "…we knew of her. We knew she was producing at least a hundred pounds of meth a month, and twice that of heroin," Eric said, pointing to a photo on the desk. "We knew she was a big supplier in our area but we never knew her name, identity, and could never get close to her. She is very well connected and well funded."

"Do you think you were getting close to her then? That's why she ran?" Grissom asked them.

"I don't think so," Horatio said. "We just found her lab today and that was after our lab spent the last three weeks running evidence from her apartment. She left for some other reason."

"The chances are she's set up shop somewhere else, maybe even here," Grissom said, glancing at Greg.

Horatio leaned forward on his legs. "She may be getting ready to leave the country," he told him.

"But she tried to kill Ryan two days ago," Calleigh argued. "If he was supposed to help her escape, somehow, why kill she left? Unless she's already left."

"Perhaps she just needed him to get to Nevada. Regardless, she couldn't smuggle that much methamphetamine out on a commercial plane. We'll start looking at all charters that are scheduled to leave the country."

"That might be a lot of planes," Eric said.

"It may be. Greg, do you have something?"

The CSI looked back at him. Greg looked at Grissom.

"Can I talk to you for a minute? In private?" Greg asked.

"Is this about Ryan's case?"

Greg didn't answer.

"Greg?"

He nodded.

"What is it? What do you have?" Calleigh asked.

"It's okay, Greg, they're consulting on the case," Grissom told him.

Greg looked at the printouts. He really didn't want to present this evidence with them in the room. Horatio seemed to understand that. He stood.

"What did you find, Mister Sanders?"

Greg looked up at him. "In the coffin, Catherine found bodily fluids under florescent." Greg handed the sheets to Horatio. "It comprises of semen with Ryan's DNA, and vaginal secretions positive of Chrissie's DNA."

Horatio looked at both sheets.

"Ryan would never have… She kidnapped him!" Calleigh said, suddenly defensive.

Greg didn't argue with her, because he didn't want to tell her the story Catherine feared this would tell.

"Horatio, he never would have—"

"Mister Sanders never said that the contributions indicated consensual sex," Horatio told her, looking her in the eyes.

What Horatio was suggesting didn't set well with Calleigh. She shook her head.

"No. No! I mean… He's a man. How could she… That's impossible."

"No. It's not." Eric told her.

She turned to him. "He's a guy! How could she—"

Eric looked up at her. "Biology trumps will power. There are ways, Calleigh."

Calleigh sank back into her chair.


	8. Chapter 8

**ILLINOIS : THREE WEEKS AGO**

Ryan's adrenaline rush wore out miles ago. He had fought the men putting him in a coffin and tying him down. The fight hadn't earned his freedom, just a black eye and bruised ribs. They had been thoughtful enough to tear out the water seal around the edges so he wouldn't suffocate, but it did nothing for the heat. The box wasn't designed for a living person to be kept in it.

Once the adrenaline wore out, the rocking and sound of the road had lulled him to sleep. He tried to fight that urge, but his body was exhausted and weak. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the morning of his kidnapping and all he'd done since was fight. Eventually sleep won.

The hearse came to a jerky stop, waking him. The engine was cut and he heard the doors open and slam shut.

"Chrissie!" someone called out.

He heard people talking but the conversation was muffled. It faded away and he was left alone. Ryan pulled against his restraints, twisted his ankles and wrists to pull them free until the plastic bindings cut into his skin and wet his skin with warm blood. Ryan stopped. He lay listening to silence, noticing there wasn't even the sound of birds or insects. Where was he? Slowly his mind began to wander away from his situation, to take him to places and times that had been safe.

He heard a door open and close and then footsteps on cement. The back door of the hearse was opened and the coffin lid lifted open. Chrissie smiled as she moved along the coffin. There was light coming in from around him, and he guessed he was in a garage or building of some kind – that would explain the absence of sounds. She was carrying a Styrofoam food container and cup. She sat it down on the floor, never taking her eyes off of him. Ryan almost begged for his freedom, but stopped. She had stalked and kidnapped him for him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He didn't answer. She opened the container, doing something.

"You like ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise on your hamburger – but not that sweet mayonnaise, the salty kind. No pickles, double cheese and bacon." She smiled at him. "I know. I had them fix it just like you like. And the fries are crispy too. I got lots of ketchup for them. I would have gotten you a beer, but I think water is better for you. You should eat better, you know that Ryan?"

He didn't respond.

"Do you remember the night we met?" Chrissie stopped, looking up and smiling. "You were so sweet and gentle. I was a little out of it, but you weren't even rough when you handcuffed me."

"What?" Ryan asked. "I never…"

He stared at her face when she looked at him. He suddenly remembered what she was talking about. She was doing forty miles over the speed limit when he pulled her over. The plates had come back as a car reported stolen. When he tried to talk to her, he could tell she was strung out on something. She fought him at first, but when he laid his hand on her shoulder she stopped and got this doe-eyed eyed look on her face. He took advantage of it to get her handcuffed, in his squad car, and back to The Village that she'd escaped from. That explained why he'd always had a nagging feeling he knew her and why he had been uncomfortable through the entire date. If she'd been infatuated with him since then his trouble just got worse.

She leaned over the side of the coffin, offering him two fries dipped in ketchup. He turned his head away. To take food from her meant giving her control, and he couldn't do that, even if he was starving.

"Ryan, it's been almost five days since you had anything to eat or drink. If you don't eat something you'll die. Is that what you want? To die?"

Ryan stomach grumbled at him. He knew she was right, unfortunately. He had to eat something if he ever wanted to escape her. So he gave in and accepted the fries.

"Guess what state we're in?"

Ryan didn't answer.

"Come on. Guess."

Ryan accepted the next bite, but he didn't answer.

"Illinois. We made good time from Miami. We only left yesterday. Jerry does a little meth and he's up all night!"

Ryan ignored her as she continued to chatter. He was only interested in the sustenance she was offering him. She pulled the cup away before he was finished and moved them aside. She laid her hand on the coffin next to his and he noticed it for the first time. Was that another kidnapped person or a corpse full of drugs?

Ryan's thoughts were interrupted when Chrissie climbed on top of him.

"Feeling better?" she asked, kissing his neck.

Ryan pulled his head away, trying to pull away from her. "Get off!"

"Oh, my pet, I've waited so long for tonight."

Ryan dodged her lips when she tried to kiss his mouth. She giggled softly in his ear then sat up and pulled off her shirt. In the seconds between her dropping her shirt to her finger unfastening the top button of his shirt he realized what she was going to do to him.

"No!" Ryan hissed as he struggled to get her off of him.

She kissed him as she exposed skin. Suddenly she bit his arm—

**MOJAVE DESERT : PRESENT**

Ryan's eyes snapped open and it took a minute for him to realize a scorpion was stinging his forearm. He jerked back, smacking at it until it flew off his arm. The arthropod hit the ground, righted itself and snapped its front pinchers and jabbed its stinger toward him. Grabbing the sting spot Ryan limped back. The scorpion backed into the safety of the bush Ryan had laid near for its meager shade.

Ryan looked up, staring at the desert before him. He looked back into the canyon he was at the end of. He didn't know what he should do. He'd never been lost in a desert before; this was an experience he knew nothing about. He grimaced when pain began building in his arm. Ryan looked up at the canyon wall going north. He decided following the high cliffs was better than doing nothing at all. Ryan started walking – and getting further from Las Vegas and the search parties.


	9. Chapter 9

**LAS VEGAS : PRESENT**

Greg was tired of working this case.

"Warrick got lucky and found some hair under the seat." Nick said as he came in and slid a bag with hair across the table to Greg.

Greg just stared at the bag. Nick leaned on the table.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked.

"Why don't you give that to Wendy?"

"She's working DNA for the other cases."

Greg sighed. Nick walked down the table.

"This is getting to you, isn't it?"

Greg looked up at him. "What she'd done to this guy… It's not right."

"It happens to women all the time."

"It's not right then, either."

"You process the DNA from those cases without any problems. Is it because it's a guy?"

"No. Because it's a CSI."

Nick nodded. "This is going to sound real mean, but just be thankful it's not one of us. Run it, Greg. If we give up, we'll never help Ryan."

Nick headed back to the door. He stopped, turning back. "Or else you can go out with SAR and I'll run it."

Greg looked up at him. "You're going out with search and rescue?"

Nick nodded. Greg looked at the bag.

"I'll run it. Good luck."

Nick smiled when he looked up and left. Greg prepared the hair samples for DNA testing.

* * *

Greg turned a corner and saw Grissom talking with Calleigh. 

"GRISSOM!" he called, jogging toward him.

The two looked up, watching him present the paper to Grissom.

"A hair sample came back to another male. Jerry Regnirps. And his last known residence was right next to a mortuary in Boulder City."

Grissom called Brass. "I need you to pick up a suspect," Grissom told him.


	10. Chapter 10

**MOJAVE DESERT : PRESENT**

Ryan tripped over a rock and staggered before he caught himself on a boulder. He immediately pulled his hand back from the burning rock. He looked ahead. The canyon wall had tapered into desert, but he'd seen something that looked like a house in the distance. He didn't know how the fast building heat of the desert played tricks on a person's mind. If he'd just kept following the foothills like he'd intended, he would have come to a major road by nightfall – twenty minutes before a local would have driven by and found him. Instead, he headed for the house in the desert.

Ryan was almost to it now and the illusion of the house suddenly gave way to a dead pine tree.

"No," Ryan whimpered, laying his hand on rough bark. He wanted to punch it, but that called for more strength than he could muster. He started walking again, heading into the desert. Ryan found himself wishing someone would come along to save him – like the stranger had a few days earlier.


	11. Chapter 11

**UTAH : FIVE DAYS AGO**

Ryan heard Chrissie talking to someone as they approached. She was telling the person about their drugs, a perfect saleswoman. Unfortunately she had that skill down and had sold a lot of drugs.

"What's in the other coffin?" a woman asked.

"Nothing," Chrissie lied.

Ryan would have barked back that she was a liar, but she'd taped his mouth shut because he kept doing it during her sales. Not that any of the people she was dealing with would ever try to help him, but he'd managed to sabotage a few sales by yelling and screaming and kicking the coffin. The only downside to this was when she had large deals she now shot him up with some kind of sedative.

"Oh come on, what's in there? It smells bad! Do you have a body in there?"

"No. I have my fiancée."

Her lie made his anger flare and he kicked the side of the coffin.

"Is he cute?" the woman asked.

The lid was opened. Standing next to Chrissie was another woman with long brown hair. Since she wasn't strung out, Ryan assumed she was a dealer.

"Yeah. He's cute alright. Could use a shave and shower though."

Chrissie looked at her. "He has issues with that."

"Like what?"

"Just issues."

The woman smiled. "Is he one of those mail order husbands? You can't trust them to go anywhere alone?"

"Pretty much." Chrissie closed the lid. "So, do we have a deal?"

"I need some time to think about it. Will you be here until tomorrow morning? I'll come back at eight."

"If you're not here, we're moving. We need to be somewhere in three days."

"Where's that?"

Chrissie laughed. "On a plane to Moscow. That's where we're getting married."

"Oh yeah? That's cool. Here's the down payment. I'll be back with a decision tomorrow, so make sure that down payment is too. If I catch it for missing money, I won't like you anymore Chrissie."

"It'll be here."

There was a short moment of silence and then Chrissie opened the lid again. She climbed in with him, kissing his neck where she'd been giving him shots of sedative.

"We have the rest of the afternoon to play!"

Ryan wanted to punch her. He wanted to bite and kick. He wanted his sidearm so he could shove it in her mouth and pull the trigger. As her hand started unfastening his pants, he turned his imagination to all the ways he wished he could kill her.

* * *

Ryan didn't wake up right away when a hand patted his face.

"Hey, wake up."

Ryan tried to, but she'd given him a sedative shot before a large deal an hour ago and it was hard for him to find his way out of its fog.

"Wake up!" the voice hissed as the hand smacked his face hard.

The slight sting woke him and he looked up. The buyer from earlier was crouched next to the coffin.

"Sit up. It'll help." She grabbed his shoulder and arm, helping him.

Ryan lifted his hand and looked at it. Ryan sat up, his mind taking several seconds to grasp that the plastic ties had been cut. But it couldn't think beyond that to tell him he was free and needed run.

"Are you Ryan Wolfe?"

"Yes."

"Come on." She grabbed his arm. "Chrissie and Jerry are getting high with the other militia. We have to be get out of here while they're busy."

Ryan let her help him out of the hearse. His surroundings started spinning and he stumbled forward. She caught him.

"Hey, I can tell from all these holes in your neck she's been shooting you up, but if you want out of here, Ryan, you have got to fight this off."

Ryan focused on the woman.

"Who are you?"

"A friend that saw your APB. Come on."

Ryan let her pull him into a walk, trying to get his bearings on the landscape. There were a lot of trees between them and a gate. He could see a car sitting outside the gate.

"Your car?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah."

A gunshot rang out and Ryan fell with his rescuer. Ryan turned, grabbing her shoulder and then pulled back. She had been shot in the back of the head and it left a wide hole. Ryan looked up, seeing Jerry aiming a rifle at him. And next to him, Chrissie.

Ryan jumped to his feet and ran for the gates. Jerry shot two more times and somehow missed both times. Ryan reached out to grab the open gate. From seemingly nowhere, someone tackled him to the ground. Then there were a dozen more men and women beating him with their bare hands. He felt something snap in his left leg, followed by several ribs cracking. The pain made his head spin and he lost his ability to tell up from down.

"STOP!" he heard Chrissie scream.

They moved away and he tried to get up, but between starving to death, being dehydrated, and the injuries he'd just sustained, he had no strength left. He was rolled over and Chrissie knelt down. Ryan screamed when her knee slid against his broken ribs.

"That hurts?" she asked, then leaned harder on them.

Ryan screamed louder, trying to push her off. Chrissie punched him. Ryan realized he'd tripped her homicidal switch and he was no longer her pet.

"If you won't love me, then you'll die." Chrissie pulled a gun from behind her and pressed it against his forehead, cocking it.

Around her the people cheered and encouraged her to kill him. She smiled suddenly and he knew whatever she was thinking was not going to be good for him.

"We're dumping the hearse, aren't we, Jerry?" Chrissie asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, Ryan, if I have to hurt because you've betrayed me, the last thing you're going to feel is pain too." Chrissie stood. "Get him back in the coffin."

Roughly he was returned to the coffin and tied back in it. Someone tapped the lid and it slammed him back into darkness. Ryan closed his eyes, unable to fight back his tears any longer. He had been a dozen feet within freedom and that hurt more than his broken bones did. He didn't want to die, but he could only imagine how she was going to kill him. Why hadn't he made her pull the trigger to end his torture instantly? Ryan cried harder.


	12. Chapter 12

**BOULDER CITY, NEVADA : PRESENT**

Greg, Warrick and Grissom entered the house. Right away they saw a problem. There was a coffee table and two broken kitchen chairs, and a thick layer of dust coated everything around them. There was strong smell of ammonia in the air, but the fire department assured them it was safe. Brass motioned them to the back of the house. In two bedrooms at the back there were several long tables with a variety of tubes, jars, and equipment for manufacturing a variety of drugs.

"Landlord said Jerry paid through the end of the year," Brass said.

"This guy isn't coming back," Grissom said. He was frustrated with all these dead ends.

Warrick wandered away from the group, looking for anything that would help them. He walked into the filthy kitchen. Covered with dirt, food and spilled liquid was a wooden floor that was probably beautiful once. The food that had been left out on the counters probably smelled the house at one time, but now it was moldy and dried out. He stopped at a door and opened it, staring into the pantry. A can of fruit and beans sat on the shelves, but nothing else. He closed the door and turned to walk away. Warrick turned back and opened the door, staring at the floor. There was a gap in the floorboards that looked like someone had pried one of the boards up.

Warrick dug his knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. He crouched down, sliding his knife into the slot, and then pried up. More than just one board came up. Boards that had looked like they were jointed together lifted, revealing a trap door in the floor. Warrick lifted it up and out, setting it aside. Stairs led down to a dirt floor and there was a string attached to a brace join just under the floor. Warrick reached out and pulled the string, and lights came on. He drew his gun and slowly started down the steps. His head cleared the floor and he stopped, staring.

"Hey," Greg said behind Warrick.

Warrick stepped off the stairs.

"What's down there?" Greg asked.

"A freaking arsenal!" Warrick answered.

Greg hurried down the stairs behind him and stood in awe next to him. Weapons of all types were on tables around the room. There were maps of the area and the airport. The two walked in opposite direction.

Greg pulled on gloves and started sifting through papers on a table. He looked up when Grissom and Brass came down, then turned back to what he was doing.

"Hey, Grissom…" Warrick said as he pulled on gloves and picked up a piece of paper. "Why does the Spring Mountain Militia sound so familiar?"

Grissom walked over to him, pulling on his own gloves. He took the letter Warrick held, skimming it.

"These people are wrapped up with the Spring Mountain Militia?" Brass asked.

"Brass, call the FBI field office," Grissom told him. "Tell them we may have uncovered evidence that would permit them to search the Spring Mountain Militia land."

Brass headed back the stairs.

"If this woman is connected with them, she's more deadly than we initially thought," Warrick said.

"Yes. Ryan never had a chance against her," Grissom said, looking at the weapons around them.


	13. Chapter 13

**MOJAVE DESERT : PRESENT**

Nick and four search and rescue members slowed their ATVs, the five staring at the mine entrance. One of the SAR climbed off his ATV, starting toward it.

"You sure we want to look here?" Nick asked.

The man turned to him. "If you were wondering in the desert and saw this nice, cool, inviting hole, wouldn't you think was a good place to stop?"

Actually, Nick wouldn't have even considered going into a place that took him underground. He and the other SAR climbed off their ATVs and walked up to the entrance of the cave. They pulled flashlights off their belts, switching them on as they walked in. Nick swallowed back his fear, reminding himself he was with other people and there was no one lurking in the darkness waiting to grab him.

They came to a tunnel branching off and he stopped, shining his light down it.

"We should check down here," Nick said.

"Go ahead. This mine has a lot of tunnels we need to check."

Nick looked up, watching them go deeper. He didn't want to go into the tunnel alone but they weren't stopping. Nick inhaled a deep breath and started down the tunnel. Intense silence closed in around him and the light of day faded fast. He stopped when his light flashed across a piece of cloth. It made him forget his fear and walk toward it. He crouched next to Ryan Wolfe, laying his fingers against the CSI's neck. Ryan's left eye was swollen shut. Something had bitten his left cheek puffed up. His right forearm was swollen tight, red and hot to the touch. Nick pressed his fingers hard against Ryan's jugular to feel the CSI's faint heart and irregular heat beat.

"Ryan?" Nick said.

Ryan didn't answer. Nick ran to the main tunnel.

"I found him! Someone call for the helicopter." He waited until a SAR appeared in the main tunnel. "Tell them to hurry. He's in real bad shape."

The man nodded as he ran past. Nick went back into the tunnel, crouching next to Ryan.

"Ryan, if you can hear me, we're going to get you to the hospital. I need you to hold on, okay?"

Softly he whispered, "Okay."

Nick laid his hand on Ryan's arm. "You've got some worried CSI back in Las Vegas, so don't you give up. Stay with me."

"Horatio?" Ryan whispered.

"Yeah. He's waiting for you. You hold on for him, okay?"

Ryan whispered something else before slipping back into his nightmares.


	14. Chapter 14

**PEPPER : FOUR DAYS AGO**

Ryan felt the hearse came to a stop and heard Chrissie say something. He heard Jerry's voice and then three other people. There was a flash of light – and at first Ryan thought that was the end – followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

"Ether coming through! Where do you want it, Chrissie?" someone asked.

"Cover everything."

"Chrissie, it's going to rain. This may not work," he heard Jerry tell her

"If the fire doesn't kill him, the landing will."

Ryan's heart was pounding in his throat. He pulled against his restraints. He heard liquid splash on the coffin top. The sharp alcohol odor of ether burned his nose and eyes. Suddenly the lid opened and Chrissie crawled up him. She yanked the duct tape off his mouth.

"Sorry it didn't work out," she told him.

"Don't do this," Ryan begged.

She ran her hand down his face. "You were so perfect until you cheated on me with that other woman."

Panicked, Ryan said the first things that came to mind, praying that the words would save his life. "Chrissie, I didn't cheat on you. I swear to you, I didn't cheat. Please, Chrissie. I love you. Please."

"You're lying. You don't love me. I saw her in here with you and then you left with her. I just can't have that. I can't trust a man that would cheat on me."

"Chrissie, we didn't—"

Chrissie kissed him and then crawled out.

"No! Chrissie, we didn't do anything! CHRISSIE!"

She tapped the lid, letting it slam close over Ryan.

"DON'T DO THIS, CHRISSIE!" Ryan screamed.

"Light it," he heard Chrissie say.

The hearse started moving slowly forward. He heard a whoosh and through the crack in the coffin he saw flames start licking at the wood. The hearse began picking up speed fast and he knew that no one was behind the wheel – which meant they had aimed it for something that was meant to kill him. Ryan struggled harder against the bonds, the pain of the struggle numbed by panic and adrenaline. There was a loud crash and the hearse jumped a couple times. Then there were several seconds of weightlessness before the car sharply tilted forward. The coffin fell forward, smashing through the dividing Plexiglas and into the backs of the seats. Ryan closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

It was an end that would etch into his mind for life. It wasn't really the feeling of the end as much as the sound. Everything stopped moving in one bone jarring motion. Metal groaned and complained as the hearse fell to its side. The impact of the hit sent coffin falling and the ties dug into skin, muscle, and bone. For a moment flames licked into the coffin, but only briefly. Because then the world began turning somersaults, tossing the coffin and Ryan. Shards of glass and small rocks made their way into the coffin, slicing through Ryan's skin and clothes. His head hit the casket lid several times, and he began seeing stars.

The hearse stopped rolling abruptly. The jerk against the ties and his broken bones sent excruciating pain through Ryan, knocking him unconscious. The only sounds that followed the crash was a soft hissing from the engine, and the steady fall of rain falling, a blessing Ryan never knew about as it quickly extinguished the flames and washed his wounds.

_(Author's note: Read the lyrics to Butthole Surfers, 'Pepper'; the title will make sense.)_


	15. Chapter 15

**LAS VEGAS : PRESENT**

Horatio and Eric followed Grissom into the emergency room. Grissom's he rounded the corner of the nurses station asking, "Ryan Wolfe was just brought in. What room is he in?"

"Exam B," the nurse answered.

Grissom headed through the doors to exam room B. Calleigh stood outside. In the room Nick was dodging the three doctors and four nurses, trying to collect evidence while they worked.

"How is he?" Eric asked.

"Not good," Calleigh said.

A doctor Grissom knew saw him and motioned him to give him five minutes. Grissom nodded. It was ten before he left.

"Gil," the doctor said.

"Hello Ian. How is he?"

He looked at the Miami CSI.

"They're his friends," Grissom explained. "How is he, Ian?"

"He's suffering from malnutrition – I don't think he's eaten in a week or more. He has heat exhaustion, dehydration, and was stung by a scorpion. There's four broken ribs, a fractured hip, and cuts on his wrists and ankles that are infected. Was he a drug user?"

"No," Calleigh and Eric answered.

"Why do you ask?" Horatio asked.

"He has needle marks on his neck."

"Ryan was kidnapped a little less than four weeks ago," Horatio told him. "We don't know what happened to him while he was kidnapped, but we do know he was not using drugs before he was kidnapped."

"Alright. I'll order a full panel then."

"We need his clothes," Grissom told him.

"Your CSI already bagged them."

A nurse opened the door. "Doctor Spencer, we're ready to move him."

"Be right there," he told her. He told the CSI, "We're moving him to room 12 in ICU."

"Thank you," Grissom told him

Ian went back into the room. A few minutes later a nurse pushed the bed out of the room, passing them. Ryan was a mix of bandages, sun burned skin, and bruises. His face was swollen and he had a cast on his left leg from his groin to foot.

"I'm going up to ICU," Eric said, following them.

Calleigh didn't say anything as she followed.

"You will call me if you find anything?" Horatio asked Grissom.

He turned to Horatio. "Yes."

Horatio followed his CSI, leaving Grissom. Grissom entered the room.

"You'll have the room for a while," Grissom told Nick.

"Okay. Ian said he'd ask the nurses to let me finish documenting the injuries when they change the bandages in an hour, so I'll need to stay for a while."

"Hurry back. We need to find Chrissie."

"I have his clothes." Nick grabbed the bags by the door and handed them to Grissom. "Hey, Grissom, uhm… You know, that guy is in really bad shape. He's hanging on by a thread. I heard what Ian said to you guys, but in here, he didn't have a real good prognosis for Ryan."

Grissom smiled at a memory and quietly told Nick, "So was Sara, but she survived. Why can't this young man?"

Nick stared at him. Grissom took the bags and left.

* * *

Nick entered Ryan's room, smiling at the Miami CSI as he passed. A nurse followed him in with a tray of bandages. She grabbed a pair of gloves from the dispenser and sat the tray down on a table. Nick stood close as she cut the bandages from one wrist. The nurse gently unfolded one hand and held it flat for Nick to photograph Ryan's wrist.

"Other side," Nick told her.

She carefully turned Ryan's wrist, flattening out his hand. Nick focused in time to see Ryan's fingers curl. He looked at her.

"It's him," she softly said. "He's coming around."

Nick glanced at Ryan's face. One eye was almost completely swollen shut; the other was puffed up under it where the snake had bitten his cheek. If it hadn't been for the swelling, his face would have looked gaunt. Sunburned skin hid how pallid he was. Nick looked back down, gently uncurling Ryan's fingers and then snapped photos.

"Help," Ryan whispered.

Nick looked up at his face again. Calleigh moved up the bed, laying her hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Ryan?" she softly asked.

"Calleigh?"

"Yeah. You're safe. You're in the hospital."

"Who's that?"

Nick looked up. Ryan's eyes were opened, but only slits.

"Nick Stokes. You're in Las Vegas and he's with a CSI."

"You need my statement," Ryan told Nick.

"Naw. That can wait," Nick answered.

"She's leaving for Russia."

Nick glanced at Horatio and Eric as they moved closer to the bed.

Nick looked back at him. "Chrissie is leaving for Russia?"

"Yes."

"When? Do you know what day?"

"No."

"Okay. Is she going to fly on a commercial airplane?"

"Yes. They're smuggling drugs in cadavers in coffins."

Nick smiled. "You know what I like about you Miami CSI, Ryan?"

"What?"

"You guys don't know how to give up. I gotta finish documenting your injuries then I'll get word to my supervisor."

"I've got that," Horatio said as he started dialing.

"H?" Ryan asked.

"I'll be right back, Ryan," Horatio said. Horatio stepped outside the room.

Nick and the nurse moved to the foot of the bed and Eric came around to stand on Ryan's other side.

"You are a mess, know that?" Eric joked.

Ryan didn't smile or even attempt to.

"Nick?" Ryan said.

"I'm still here. What's up?"

"When you catch her, you tell her the fire and crash didn't kill me."

Nick lowered his camera, looking up at Ryan.

"I'll be sure she knows."

Ryan slowly nodded. Nick lifted his camera, snapping his photographs. He wasn't going to tell Ryan, or anyone else, but if he saw Chrissie Mandias, his hope was she'd give him a reason to shoot to kill.

* * *

Chrissie and Jerry pulled up to the gates in a new hearse. Both looked like a business couple. Inside an FBI agent and Greg were dressed as security guards. Greg grabbed a clipboard and stepped outside the guard house.

"Can I help you?"

"We're supposed to deliver this corpse to Continental flight 418."

"Paperwork," Greg said.

Jerry handed him the papers and he looked them over. He handed them back.

"It's at terminal B, gate 17. And hurry, they were expecting you twenty minutes ago."

"I thought the flight left at seven-thirty."

"Maybe you should call the airport before you come next time," Greg told Jerry as he stepped back in the shack.

Jerry heard Chrissie move and reached over, laying his hand on her's before she could pull the gun concealed in her purse. He looked in her eyes, shaking his head very slightly. The gate rolled open and Jerry pulled through.

In the guardhouse Greg and the FBI agent watched them pull away, and when they were gone, the FBI agent lifted his radio.

"They're headed your way," he said.

"Affirmative," Brass answered.

Jerry drove along the roads to the terminal and pulled up to the luggage conveyor. The baggage handlers – one a policeman, the other Nick Stokes – were leaning against a baggage cart.

"Is this the dead guy?" Nick asked.

"Yes. This is the deceased," Jerry told them.

"Your dead guy almost missed his flight."

Chrissie got out of the car.

"Hi," Nick said, faking a flirty smile.

She smiled back as she walked around. She handed him the keys to the hearse with a rolled up hundred dollar bill.

"We're to accompany the body," she told him. "Someone from the mortuary will be picking up the car. You don't mind parking it, do you?"

"Not at all," Nick lied, letting her drop the keys into the palm of his work glove.

He dropped the items into his uniform pocket.

"Come on, Nick," the officer said, smacking his shoulder. "I'm not moving some dead guy alone."

Nick followed the officer around to the back and they loaded the coffin onto the conveyer.

"Hey, where's the tag?" Nick called.

"Oh!" Chrissie walked over. "There isn't one?"

"No. You know we can't take this without that tag. They got all these rules and regulations."

"Is there any way to convince you of overlooking that?" she asked as she produced another hundred.

"Me, yeah, but this new guy I'm working with might be a little harder to convince." He nodded behind her.

She turned, staring at the gun Horatio had trained on her. The police officer had Jerry pinned against the hearse with his gun shoved into Jerry's back. She turned as she pulled her gun from her purse, and found Nick staring down the barrel of his own gun.

Brass, police officer and FBI agents came from under the plane, surrounding them.

Chrissie turned, looking for an escape.

"Chrissie," Nick said.

She turned to him, still aiming her gun at him.

"Ryan sent a message. The fire and the crash didn't kill him," Nick snarled.

Chrissie's face was easy to read. She knew she had lost. She knew she'd made a mistake in not killing Ryan. She knew that she would never go to jail; she'd be put back into a psychiatric hospital again. Her thumb brushed against the trigger, pulling it back.

It was instinct for Nick and Horatio to respond to the threat. In unison two guns fired. One bullet hit her between the eyes. The second cut into her chest, tearing her heart apart. She fell back on the tarmac, getting her last wish in life fulfilled. She'd never see the inside of another psychiatric hospital again.

Nick stared at her body. Horatio walked around the hearse, also staring at it.

"Good shot, Horatio," he told him.

"And the same to you, Nick."

They didn't need to tell the other that they'd hoped for her to do something like she had. The individual bullets had said that clearly.


End file.
